The Dream of the Entertainer
by CynicalThresher
Summary: 1986. In a crummy little apartment in the USSR, a mustachioed man contemplates where life took him. The love he lost, and the promise he kept.


_**The Dream of the Entertainer**_

 _Kiev, USSR  
April 26th, 1986_

The window wasn't set in properly. He knew this, as the rain beat against it, rattling and battering, and sending small droplets onto the sill. It drove him nearly mad to hear it, as he leaned back into his office chair. The scratchy fabric dug into his neck, causing him to rumble in discomfort, and the faint sound of the radio behind him was almost completely drowned by the sound of the rain.

"There has been continued aggression from the Mujahadeen, with attacks continuing on the Soviet Embassy in Kabul. Efforts have been made to increase DRA numbers throughout the country..."

Viktor had been sent to Afghanistan a few years back. His old friend from school, now trapped in by the war. Who knows how long it would be before he could return to his wife, and their little boy. He deserved to grow up with his father. But with no certain exit on the horizon, there wasn't a lot that could be done. And it made Sergei uneasy about it all.

When was it going to end? The threat of the atomic had loomed over him and his country for his whole life. And there was no end. He remember back in '62, holding his panicking sister in a hug as him and his family awaited any news from the Kremlin on the radio. Being minutes away from a nuclear war, it struck fear in the hearts of many.

But that was a long time ago. Viktor has left. His family has splintered. Sergei Alexander Bobinsky was a man shoved to solidarity.

He retrieved a smoke from the carton tucked into the back of his desk. He had been forced to ration out his cigarettes, one in the morning, one around lunchtime, and one before bed. He felt no desire to get some rest, though. For a few nights, he had been drawing himself back to his problems.

He had felt trapped by everything. His career as a physician he didn't want to be. His dingy apartment in the Soviet suburbs that he had to take. And an empty sinking feeling that always came back to bite whenever it crossed his mind. He couldn't stop the intruding thought.

 ** _Anna._**

They had first met at a Pioneer camp, back in '64. They were only close friends at the time, but they seemed to tell where it would lead them in the future. He would demonstrate his gymnastics to her, and then lose his balance and fall flat on his face. It was worth the giggling fit she would erupt into.

He thought back to when they first started dating, and the many dances they shared at the town socials. They proved it took two to tango, as they followed each others steps and sways with grace. Those trips they took to the local ice skating rink, wearing wool jackets that could barely keep them warm, and their skates sharpened by hand, courtesy of Anna's kind father.

And he could still remember the day he proposed to her, with an act of bravado not seen by many. He felt a wave of relief when her parents gave their blessing. Back then, he felt like things were shaping up to be golden. He had found the love of his life, work that made ends meet, and a nice and quaint home in Moscow. They held the same dream. A dream of prosperity and success. Crowds cheering them on.

 _The dream of the entertainer._

His warm reminiscing smile slowly started to fade on him, however, as the nostalgia goggles came off.

The times seemed always dark on them. They married in what seemed like a close to the Cold War, a way to guarantee safety for their future family. For all his life, Sergei heard nothing but poverty, crisis, and the neverending threat of nuclear war. He wanted to believe that the Soviet leadership could be trusted, that they knew what was best for the people. These beliefs fell to no hands however, and there felt like no way out. He seemingly knew the Soviet Union would fall one day, he just didn't know where it would land.

Then came the news.

As the months went by, he knew something was terribly wrong. Her skin had turned near as pale as snow, and she rarely ever wanted to dance anymore. He could remember the horrifying day when she couldn't walk up the stairs, even with his help. And the trip to the hospital confirmed... that it was indeed Leukemia.

"Don't let your life pass by because of me, Sergei." Those words she spoke to him in her hospital room... it reminded him of how they managed to stay confident and happy throughout the tough times.

The promise of light at the end of the tunnel. That they would soon enter the likes of the performers they so looked up to. They had dreamed of joining shows like the Moscow State Circus, or the legendary Barnum and Bailey's. They wanted not fame, not fortune, but their footprints on the world.

And as he sat beside her bed, holding her hand as if were glass, Sergei knew he'd soon be alone.

His eyes drifted lazily around his desk, eyeing the various knick-knacks, books, and cassette tapes and vinyls littered around the shelf on top of it. He reached out for a picture frame, one that held a photograph he had burned into his memory.

It was of their wedding day, in the fall of '76. Him in a decent black tuxedo, and her in a light wedding gown. Beaming smiles on both of their faces. The happiest moments of his life.

He set it back with a light smile, when his hand brushed over one of the vinyl sleeves. He slid it out with a pinch, and took a gander. A song he would always hum along to whenever he heard it.

He stood up, walking over to a little cheap turntable which sat upon his nightstand. Gently placing the record down, he flipped the player on and dropped the needle.

He stood in the middle of his room, with a deep sigh. Breathe in, breathe out.

...

 _People are strange, when you're a stranger_  
 _Faces look ugly, when you're alone_  
 _Women seem wicked, when you're unwanted_  
 _Streets are uneven when you're down_

One foot in front of the other, he bounded lightly to the end of the room, with three twirls back. His arms were raised over his head in a V.

 _When you're strange_  
 _Faces come out of the rain_  
 _When you're strange_  
 _No one remembers your name_  
 _When you're strange_

'You dwell too much on the past, the future speeds by. Always remember to look forward.'

 _People are strange, when you're a stranger_  
 _Faces look ugly, when you're alone_  
 _Women seem wicked, when you're unwanted_  
 _Streets are uneven when you're down_

His leg went high up in the air, as he spun on the tip of his foot, and with a light leap, he landed on the other.

 _When you're strange_  
 _Faces come out of the rain_  
 _When you're strange_  
 _No one remembers your name_  
 _When you're strange_

'I have to try. I have to succeed. I'll press on. For her. And for myself.'

 _When you're strange_  
 _Faces come out of the rain_  
 _When you're strange_  
 _No one remembers your name_  
 _When you're strange_  
 _When you're strange_

 _When you're strange_

...

As the song came to a close, he ended his twirl with a foot to the ground. A humorous smile plastered on his face. He barely registered that the song had ended.

He decided. He had to leave, and he had to try. Whenever he'd end up, it didn't matter. He couldn't let life move on without him.

'I'll make a name for us, Anna. I promise you that.'

The shrill ring of his phone snapped him out of his stupor, as he creeped over to pick it up.

"Hello? Sergei speaking." He spoke as the voice of his associate Ivan came through the other end.

"It is Ivan. Sorry to bother this late. There has been an accident near Pripyat. It is a crucial emergency and they are requiring doctors immediately."

Sergei understood. Right now, he was needed, and had to help those in need. With no hesistation, he responded.

"Absolutely, Ivan. I'll be there in around three hours or so. You have my word.'

Setting the phone back down, he glances to his wool coat. Grabbing it off of the hanger and throwing it over himself, he took one last look at the frame.

'It's was our dream... and I'll see it through to the very end.'

 **Sergei Alexander Bobinsky left the USSR in 1988. He did not witness firsthand the ultimate collapse of the Soviet Union.**

 _THE END_


End file.
